Dinner Tonight?
by Camilla Faye Montgomery
Summary: Years after Voyager's return: Naomi and Icheb have a dinner date, but Icheb never shows up. Chapter 3: Icheb's still not dead. And he's still very likely been assimilated.
1. Chapter 1

**Dinner Tonight?**  
by Camilla Faye Montgomery

This one's all mine (Kate)  
  
Summary: Years after Voyager's return: Naomi and Icheb have a dinner date.  
  
My first fanfic. Not quite sure where the inspiration came from, and as for the ending, well, I think I just ran out of stuff to write, so...  
I'll try to write more if anyone wants me to. Please review.  
  
Rating: G  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Voyager, somebody else does. And while I'm sure they're making plenty of money from it, I'm not.  
  
The story:  
  
22 year old Naomi Wildman smoothed her blue satin dress. Idly, she looked at her reflection as she quickly and expertly coiled her strawberry hair into a intricate bun. She scrutinized her appearance for a moment, and then abruptly took out the pins and shook out her locks. _no, not tonight, _the young ensign thought, _tonight is special_ . Naomi brushed her hair out and left it loose, with only a clip to hold it out of her face. As she applied her makeup, Naomi glanced at the chronometer. 1855. He would be there in five minutes... exactly. He was always punctual, to the nanosecond. Sometimes she wished that he could be a little more exciting, a little more spontaneous. But then she looked into his eyes... those eyes so filled with passion for life, those eyes that could just as easily look through her, lifelessly, with the cold glint of metal that was the Borg. But they didn't . If he hadn't been disconnected from the collective years ago, if he hadn't been carrying that virus that meant death to the Borg, if they hadn't found his ship, if Seven hadn't saved him, then she would never be able to look into those eyes and know the person behind them.   
  
He had come when they were just children, her more so than him. At first she had been afraid of him, but she soon came to realize that he was frightened too. She did her best to be his friend, and when the other children left, he became one of her best friends.   
  
When Voyager returned home, there were debriefings and trials. The trials were just a formality; nearly everyone who was charged was acquitted, except for the people from the Equinox. After the doctors at Starfleet Medical had finished _studying_ him and Seven, he entered the Academy. He sent her short, text-only messages often, and once in a while they would share a short conversation over the communicator. She saw him every year at the reunions, of course, but it wasn't the same as on Voyager, especially when he started to bring dates with him. He was growing up, and she knew he still thought of her as a child.  
  
She entered the academy early, just as he had. But he was already on his second mission by then. When she graduated, she had unexpectedly been assigned to the same ship as he was. They reconnected and ate breakfast in the mess hall together whenever they could. But it wasn't until they had been serving on the same ship for two years that he asked her out on a real date. They were on shore leave, on Ktari, in fact, and he sent a short message to her quarters. _dinner tonight? resistance is futile._ He was able to joke about being Borg now. It had been so many years. When she passed him on her way to her duty station that morning she winked, to show him that her answer was yes.  
  
The sound of the door chiming for the third time brought her back to the present. She looked up at the chronometer again. 1905. He'd been there for five minutes. Why didn't he just come in? He knew her key code. I'm coming, she called, in the general direction of the door, as she swept around the room, making sure she had everything. She was so excited, much more than she would have thought that she would be. A real date, with someone she'd had a crush on since they were both children, someone she respected, admired, loved. Naomi flew to the door and smiled as it opened. That smile didn't last for long. Clark, what are you doing here? she breathed. Ensign Clark Johnson was her friend, but he was _not_ the person she had expected to see. Where's Icheb? she asked him innocently.  
  
His face paled as she asked him that. he began, Icheb is dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dinner Tonight?**  
by, Camilla Faye Montgomery  
**Chapter II Death, Discovery, and Duty**  
  


Hi! Remember me? Kate, the girl who used to write, some time far in the past? Anyway, I stumbled upon this just now as I was going through my stories. I wrote it a few months ago but didn't think it was worth posting. Reading it now, it doesn't seem as bad as it did then, so here it is, the long awaited (by me, anyway) next chapter.   
  
Rating: G  
Summary: Guess what, Icheb isn't dead. But perhaps he wishes he was.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Voyager. Oh well.  
  
  
They walked down the corridor. It wasn't really walking. She felt that rather, she was gliding past and through doorways the same way a train glides on a track, passing trees and buildings and people and the world. Speeding through and around and between life, but not experiencing it. Was she alive? She didn't know, couldn't tell. Strange how the world just doesn't seem to be the world and life doesn't seem to be life, when...She didn't want to think about it.   
  
There was a job to be done, and she was the one to do it. Oh, she wasn't going to swoop onto the bridge and take control, or perform some amazing and inspired and vital function. That wouldn't make sense. She was just going to do what she was told, improvise if necessary. Sure, on a starship there are almost by definition heros, brilliant officers who save the world or the universe weekly, or so it seems. But it takes a starship crew to keep a starship hanging, as if by an invisable string, among the heavans. And she was a part of that crew. So she'd do what she had to.  
  
She knew, knew he'd only been trying to protect her, but Naomi felt a wave of resentment pass over her. Clark knew Icheb's history, knew that to him-and to her, assimilation was a fate worse infinitly worse than mere death. So he had given her a gift, tried to hide the horrifying truth from her. How dare he? What right had he to keep that from her? She deserved to know everything about him and his end as an individual, whether by death or by the Collective. That knowledge belonged to her, he and everything about him belonged to her, and she to him.   
  
Whoa....where did that come from? She searched her mind for the genesis of that thought. How, exactly did she reach that particular conclusion? Never mind. No time to think, to even breathe now. All that mattered was Icheb wasn't dead. They didn't even know for sure that he'd been assimilated. All they knew was that his shuttle had been tractored into the green gaping mouth of a Borg sphere. He wasn't dead, he could still be saved, and they were going to go save him.   
  
She loved Clark like a brother, but my he could be dense sometimes. How exactly did he plan to keep her from finding out about Icheb's probable assimilation, while the whole crew prepared for the rescue mission?  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Dinner Tonight: Chapter 3  
by Kate

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. And I'm _seriously_ planning on updating this again soon.  
  
The Story:  
  
  
  
I'm coming, Icheb!, Naomi called as she marched purposefully through the green-tinted winding corridor of a Borg sphere. Conscious of her vulnerable position, her relative powerlessness, Naomi nevertheless felt no fear. Her mind was calm, her reactions quick. Naomi walked with the cool precision of a machine, confident that each step took her closer to Icheb, and the resolution of a situation that, although once frightening, now seemed hardly more than one more thing to get through before lunch. Part of her sense of invulnerability came from the new weapon she held in her hands. She marveled at the Doctor's ingenuity and general brilliance. To invent a munition capable of destroying a whole Borg sphere was one thing. To find a way to compress its power into a handheld weapon the size of a phase rifle, deadly to individual drones, was a whole other level of genius. Naomi silently thanked the doctor as she carefully weaved through the corridor, avoiding stepping on the myriad bodies of fallen drones.   
  
she heard again. She continued stepping over the Borg.  
  
Naomi, wake up!  
  
Naomi's eyes flew open as she was pulled suddenly from her dream. She wanted to stay there. She needed to rescue Icheb. She was almost there. Just a few more Borg to make her way through, and she would have reached him, brought him back. Why did the world of dreams and the world of waking have to be so cleanly divided? If only she could reach back into her unconscious imaginings and draw out the photonic rifle. Or Icheb himself, safe, unharmed... But it was useless to waste time on such idle fancies. She had a job to do, and now someone to speak to, apparently.  
  
Naomi looked up with drowsy eyes to see who had woken her.   
  
  
  
Hey, Naomi, the young ensign's eye's were filled with worry as he looked down on her, Um, maybe you should go to your quarters and get some real sleep. You've been working for hours past your duty shift. And you'd have to be pretty tired to fall asleep on one of this ship's consoles. They don't make the best pillows, Clark said in a conciliatory tone. His expression and shyly friendly demeanor begged forgiveness.  
  
Naomi eyed Clark semi-suspiciously for a moment. She wasn't sure if she wanted to talk to him just then. She was still furious with him for lying to her. _He let me think my... he let me believe that Icheb was dead. That killed me. For a few minutes back there I died, or a part of me died. it doesn't matter. When one part of you dies, the rest can't help but soon follow._ And yet, Naomi knew that she had to forgive Clark at some point. To continue with even a righteous rage against him would only hurt her, him, and anyone else connected to them. And if she was going to forgive him anyway, there was no point in carrying on any longer in anger. Spite was a fruitless and distracting endeavor.  
  
Maybe you're right Clark, Naomi said gently, I just want to do all I can to help get Icheb back. But I guess I m not much help if I'm falling asleep on top of my calculations.  
  
Clark smiled as he acknowledged the cessation of hostilities. He opened his mouth to express what he had come to say, Naomi, I'm so sorry. I only wanted to keep you from the pain of... Well I know how you and Icheb feel about assimilation. I figured that Icheb didn't have a chance, and I just wanted to spare you from thinking of him as a drone.  
  
Naomi smiled grimly, but not coldly, Clark, Icheb and I have been through a lot together. We experienced so much on Voyager, and even before Voyager, in Icheb's case. And from those experiences we were able to draw certain truths. Yes, one thing that Icheb and I learned is that assimilation is truly a fate worse than death. But we also learned that hope is a priceless weapon in a seemingly hopeless situation. Sometimes you just have to be persistent and keep going until you've accomplished whatever you set out to do.  
  
I'm sorry Naomi. And I think I understand what you're saying. Let's go do the impossible.  
  
That's the plan, Clark. But first, I'm going to get a few hours sleep before my next shift. 


End file.
